Away From it All
by Stitch-Riverotter
Summary: What happens when our intrepid heroes decide to take some much needed vacation time to go camping? Read Chip's journal and find out.
1. Default Chapter

Author's disclaimer: All characters are owned by Disney and are used here without permission. Please note that this story is not canon with other existing fanfics, nor is it meant to embellish upon stories created by other authors. The Chip and Dale who appear in this story are not 'Chip Maplewood' and 'Dale Oakmont'.

Away From it All

by Stitch

Part 1 – 'You mean my rear end might show?'

Chip's Travel Journal

Somewhere in the Great Redwood Park, Day 1

Well, this is it – we've finally arrived. As I write this by the light of my little electric pen light, I am tucked into my soft blue sleeping bag, listening to the faint rasping chirrups of crickets and the wind rustling the sides of our tent. Pale moonlight glows on the roof as though it were shining through watery milk, casting gnarled shadows from the branches above. I am also listening to Dale sawing logs beside me in his favorite green sleeping bag, that one with pictures of spaceships all over it. I swear, he sounds like a little chainsaw when he snores.

There's not much room in our tent, crammed as it is with all the junk that I told Dale not to bring with him: Six pairs of swimming shorts (honestly I don't know why he bothers to put them on… we don't wear pants!), an inflatable rubber inner tube, a rain coat, a hammock, twenty feet of rope, a stack of comic books, a pickaxe, a compass that's almost as big as he is, a yo-yo, a lightning rod – you'd think he's never gone camping before. I mean, the whole point is to get away from all the clutter, not bring it with you. You should have seen him earlier today, stumbling up the trail under a backpack so overstuffed it looked like it had sprouted little chipmunk arms and legs and was dragging itself along. 

Even still, I am glad we were able to get away for a few days. I don't like to admit it, but sometimes the constant daily task of being a Rescue Ranger kind of wears me down – just now and again, mind you. It isn't easy being a hero, you know. You're constantly in demand. Only the other day we barely escaped from a firey doom, cleverly played two rival gangs of cutthroat thieves against each other with the help of Gadget's new holographic whattayacallit, foiled the plans of an insane rodent mastermind, rescued six little orphan mice… and that was just the afternoon. It's weird, how stuff keeps happening to us. 

Anyhow, like I said I'm really looking forward to some R&R with my fellow Rangers. If you don't count that extra day we spend in Key Largo after solving the 'Case of the Invisible Dirigible', we haven't really had a vacation in a long time (and I don't count that extra day because none of us could agree on what to do and we ended up spending the whole time by ourselves… I hate to say it but beachcombing is no fun without Dale. He finds all the cool shells.) 

Tomorrow will be our first real chance to kick up our heels and have a good time… we spent so much time just doing busywork today; packing the Ranger Wing, flying out of the city, navigating our way over the park to our landing site, unpacking, hiking, arguing with Dale over the best spot to set up our tent (he wanted to put us right in a dry stream bed… I asked him if he wanted to wake up getting swept away in a flash flood, and he just got that weird gleamy look in his eyes, like maybe he thought that would be fun.) The sun was going down by the time we were all settled in, so I didn't have a lot of time to get the lay of the land. Still, what I did see was impressive – all those massive redwood trees towering overhead, so high their tops were lost in the encroaching evening gloom. 

Tomorrow I would like to lead everyone on a hike. I've brought along a few nature guides, so we can identify plants and interesting critters. I know it's not really Gadget's speed – she's probably already missing her workshop – but I'm hoping Monty, Zipper, Dale and I will have such a good time that she'll have no choice but to join in. 

Alright, time for bed.

Chip's Travel Journal 

Somewhere in the Great Redwood Park, Day 2

Today didn't exactly go the way I'd hoped it would. 

Things started off okay… you should have seen the sunrise, splashing over the mountaintops like an explosion of molten gold and turning the clouds into a candy-striped riot of strawberry and orange streaks in the sky. And the air! One deep breath fills your lungs with a cool, misty fragrance, like new leaves, rich soil, fresh sap and rainwater all mixed together. I may be a city chipmunk at heart, but there's definitely something to this whole get-back-to-nature thing. 

I was the first one awake, so I climbed halfway up the oak tree beside our tent and watched dawn break over the park's central valley. The hillside drops away fairly close to where we've set up, so that you can see through the trunks of the nearby redwoods and out over the forest as it stretches away like a vast green blanket. I'm sure glad I've got my jacket and hat – the morning chill is enough to put quite a freeze on your eartips. 

Looking down onto our campsite I could see our three tents set up in a row; our dark green one, Monty and Zipper's blue one and Gadget's weird silvery one that she made herself out of some kind of stuff she says can withstand up to 1800 degrees Farenheit. I dunno, maybe she's worried about forest fires. 

It wasn't long before the others started stirring. I could hear Dale first, flopping around in his sleeping bag and yawning dramatically. Then Monty and Zipper started rustling around – I heard Monty grumble something about "Where'za cuppa?" and Zipper buzzing lethargically back at him. Then Gadget appeared; she just sort of popped out of her tent fully dressed, her goggles perched on top of her head and a bright smile on her face as though she hadn't even slept. Who knows, maybe she hadn't. 

Soon everybody was up. Monty made his way right to the camp stove and started boiling a pot of coffee, shoulders slumped like he was sleepwalking. Gadget stood beside him with a skillet in her paw, chatting away about how her new stove is better than the old one because it's self-cleaning… I don't think he heard a word she said.

Suddenly Dale popped his head out of the tent flap and started looking to and fro, eyes wide. "Chip? Hey, Chip? Where's Chip?" he called. I was just about to yell down to him when he got a panicked look on his face and leapt out into the morning air clad only in his orange stocking cap. "Chip's been kidnapped! Abducted!" he cried, jabbing his finger upwards as though he were making a proclamation. "Villains! Evil raccoons! Ransom-demanding bears! Aaaaaaliens!" he yelped. Then he started running in circles around the tent. Gadget and Monty just sort of looked at him, then shrugged at each other with little smiles on their faces. It was all I could do to keep from falling off the branch, I was laughing so hard. 

After a few moments Monty walked over to him and clapped a paw down on his shoulder, effectively stopping him in his tracks. "Oi, take a breather, mate. I'm sure Chip hasn't been kidnapped. He's probably just off for a morning hike, or gatherin' firewood or something. Now, why not pop back in yer tent and put some kit on before ya catch a cold?" 

Dale didn't exactly look convinced that I hadn't been taken away by supernatural forces, but he did at least stop running in circles. Monty seems to have two modes when it comes to dealing with Dale; either he fans the flames and jumps headfirst into chaos with him, or he manages to cool his jets with a few remarkably well-chosen words. 

There was a sudden buzzing sound in my right ear. I glanced up and found myself face to face with Zipper… how he knew I was in the tree I don't know. He gave me a broad smile and waved – I gave him a thumbs-up in return. Then he spun and zoomed down to hover beside Dale, tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention, and pointed up at me. 

Dale did a double take when he looked up and saw me, his eyes going wide as saucers. "Chip!" he called. "Why did the aliens leave you up in a tree?"

Breakfast consisted of cheddar biscuits (Monty considers these his 'specialty', though really his special touch in the kitchen means applying heavy amounts of cheese to whatever he's cooking, including corn flakes), some of those fruit-marshmallowy cereal bars Zipper likes so much, and a few strips of that fake bacon they make out of tofu or something – we don't tell Dale that's what he's eating because he probably wouldn't touch the stuff otherwise. I swear he never learned that he's not a carnivore. 

Monty offered us some of his coffee, but Gadget doesn't like the taste and Dale and I… well, let's just say that caffeine and chipmunks aren't such a good combination. Memories linger of that time he and I accidentally ate two espresso beans because we thought they were dark-roasted peanuts. How I ended up on the ceiling, quivering and hanging upside down by my clawtips, I still to this day do not remember. So it was hot chocolate for us this morning instead. 

As we ate I started dropping little hints about going on a hike. Gadget didn't seem all that interested, but Monty said he and Zipper would be up for it if everybody else was going. I was counting on Dale to cast the deciding vote, but he said he wanted to go swimming instead. I should have anticipated that, since he brought along all that swim gear, but even still I was a little disappointed. Early morning is the best time to go hiking, when all the wild critters are still stirring and the air is fresh and crisp. '_Ah well,' _ I thought, '_maybe a cool dip would be nice too.'_

But first, I organized the cleanup of all the dirty dishes and things from breakfast. Naturally nobody wanted to deal with the mess (especially Dale, who I caught trying to slink away behind Monty's tent), but it still had to get done. There was quite a bit of grumbling from everybody as I assigned tasks – Dale on washing, Monty on drying, Zipper on putting the plates away, and Gadget on re-packing the food in the ice chest. "But Chip, we're camping!" complained Dale, as though that somehow exempted him from having to do a bit of work. "It's supposed to be messy!"

"Too right," agreed Monty. "We ought to be relaxin', not worryin' about a little clutter."

"Just because we're on vacation doesn't mean we shouldn't be clean and organized," I informed them. You should have seen the looks they gave me when I told them they'd missed a spot on one of the cups. 

There's a small creek not far from where we're set up, and since everybody seemed to like Dale's swimming idea better than my suggestion of a hike we decided that after we'd cleaned up breakfast we'd spend the morning there. I can't say as I was too thrilled about it, but I figured after everybody got tired of splashing around they'd want to do something more interesting. 

Once the cups and dishes were properly scrubbed and put away, everybody went to their tents to get their swimming stuff. Well, everybody except me… I honestly hadn't thought to bring any. Dale darted into our tent and emerged in record time, waddling from side to side in a pair of ridiculous bright orange flippers that made him look like a furry brown duck with a pair of goggles and a rubber snorkel strapped to his head. Apart from that he was clad in a pair of the most ludicrous, eye-sizzling atomic red and yellow swim shorts I've ever seen, his little tail wagging through a hole in the back. "Hey, don'tcha want to get ready for our swim?" he asked.

"I didn't bring any shorts," I shrugged, and he just shook his head at me as though I was the most clueless being he'd ever seen. 

"You can borrow a pair of mine, then… but not the black ones with the green zigzags, 'cause I just found out they've got a big rip in the back." 

"Golly, you mean my rear end might show?" I rolled my eyes, though of course he didn't get the sarcasm and just nodded, grinning. I sighed, "That's okay, Dale, I think I'll just dip my toes today."

"Suit yourself," he shrugged, then tilted his head to one side and giggled. "Or rather, don't suit yourself. Hee hee."

The sun had risen up over the far-off jagged mountain peaks and was sending bright yellow spears of light through the last dregs of morning mist by the time we got to the creek. We quickly found a pleasant little spot where a tree root poked halfway into the burbling water and formed a natural inlet, its sides surrounded by a carpet of soft green moss. Gadget was wearing a one-piece bathing suit that looked remarkably similar to that purple-grey jumpsuit she always wears, except this one had some odd kind of metal utility belt too. Monty, on the other paw, had gotten decked out in a red and white striped thing that wouldn't have looked out of place on a turn-of-the-century carnival strongman. Zipper too. Seriously, all they needed to complete the image was a pair of cannonball dumbells and maybe some wax for Monty's moustache. 

Monty gave us all a wave and marched out into the water, quickly sinking in up to his ample belly. "Brrr-r-r-r-r!" he shuddered, then grinned. "Now that's better than coffee! Come on in, mates, the water's freezing!"

"You guys are crazy," I said, though I was careful to keep it under my breath. I walked along the top of the tree root that formed the natural border of the inlet and sat down, letting my toes sink into the water. Monty has a gift for understatement as well as bizarre forms of self-torture – the water was so cold I was surprised there weren't chunks of glacial ice bobbing in it. 

When I looked back over the water to the sandy shoreline, I saw Gadget dipping one foot into the water, then withdrawing it, then dipping it in again as if she was checking to see if it was still cold. '_Good, at least Gadget's with me on this one,' _ I thought to myself. _'Maybe she and I can go for a walk while the others swim…'_

But then she reached a paw down and began fiddling with that odd belt around her waist. "Compensate for temperature drift, plus or minus four degrees," she said to herself as she twiddled a little gold dial. "There, that ought to do it!" Suddenly her suit hummed and flared up with a network of glowing streaks that looked as though lightning had somehow been woven into the fabric. Even Monty and Zipper stopped splashing at each other and turned to stare. She slid her goggles down over her eyes – I noticed they were different ones than this morning, with black bubble lenses – then walked out into the water as though it was as inviting as the Caribbean seashore. She waved at me, then popped a little hose into her mouth and slid under the water. 

Monty and I stared at each other while Zipper buzzed in circles around the little patch of bubbles that marked the spot where she'd disappeared. "Uh, Gadget, love…" Monty said with rising concern. I have to confess I was getting ready to dive in, frigid water or no, and perform an impromptu rescue if need be when Monty stuck his head down into the water, then popped back up and gave me a hearty laugh. "Crikey, she's breathin' underwater like a fish!" 

A moment later her paw rose up out of the water, gave us a thumbs-up, then disappeared again like the Lady of the Lake or something. I smiled in spite of myself and shook my head, leaning back on my paws. '_Let everyone have their morning fun, then,' _I thought. Speaking of which, it had occurred to me to wonder where Dale had gotten to when from somewhere behind the shrubs, like the blood-curdling battle cry of a Viking berzerker, came his high-pitched yell:

"Cannnnon-BAAAALLLLL!"

I looked up just in time to see a furry brown streak dart out of the woods, orange flippers slapping madly at the ground, and leap into the air. "Oh, no!" I yelped, throwing my paws in front of my face. A moment later Dale smacked into the water like a chipmunk-shaped meteor, sending a great spume of white, icy-cold water right at me. "Arrrrgh!" I heard myself cry out a moment before I was drenched. The water immediately soaked right through my fur while my poor sopping hat drooped down over the sides of my face. Forcing myself to stay calm, I gripped my paws against the tree root and gritted my teeth, waiting for Dale to resurface so I could yell at him, or maybe throw something. 

Somebody surfaced right next to my feet, and I was just about to let go with a stream of insults when I realized it was Gadget, not Dale. She looked like a giant yellow-haired bug with those weird black goggles on. Spitting out her breathing tube, she stared up at me quizzically. "Golly, what was that? Oh, Chip… did you decide to come swimming after all? You should have taken your jacket off first." 

I tried to explain, but all that came out of my mouth was a little spurt of water. Nearby, I could hear Monty and Zipper struggling not to laugh. 

Dale, meanwhile, finally popped his head up and shook it so that the little frizz of fur on top stuck out in all directions. "Wowie… cold," he chattered. 

"No kidding," I snapped, but I don't think he heard me.

Feeling a bit defeated, I stood up and walked back down the tree root, then up a ways from the water where I slipped out of my soggy jacket and hat so I could hang them on a low branch to dry. 

It was lunchtime by the time my things had dried out. The others had long since had their fill of swimming (Monty, for all his bravado, had been the first one out… I swear his nose had started turning blue), but instead of heading back to the campsite they all sat around on the moss and chatted. I joined them, naked as a jaybird and still pretty damp, but my heart wasn't really in the chit-chat and I couldn't think of much to talk about. 

This was not a problem with Dale, of course. He regaled us all with florid – and highly questionable – accounts of his personal heroism in the face of danger. Once he was finished, Monty chimed in with a few tales of his own adventuring exploits around the globe.

Monty's stories were even more absurd-sounding than Dale's, but over the years I've learned to suspend at least some of my disbelief… just the other week we were all skeptically shaking our heads over one of his tall tales about the lost tribe of mystical mountain-dwelling gerbils of el Valle Perdido del Fuego, and wouldn't you know it but we ended up in Brazil on a case and who should we meet but the High Gerbil himself, who greeted Monty like a long-lost brother and asked him how the Dodgers were doing. 

"Boy-oh-boy, I'm getting hungry," said Dale after a while. He always pats his belly when he says this, as if words alone can't truly convey the depth of his appetite… actually they probably can't. Everybody else agreed, so we picked ourselves up and began to make our way back to the campsite. 

I hadn't been getting anywhere with my subtle hints about going on a hike, so I decided to just try the direct approach. "You know what would be nice after lunch?" I asked as I grabbed my now-dry hat and jacket from the branch. 

"A nap?" asked Gadget.

"Dessert?" asked Monty.

"Bzzz?" asked Zipper (I think).

"More lunch?" asked Dale.

I think I did an admirable job of containing my frustration. Shaking my head, I said, "No, a hike."

"Oh right," said Monty, apparently remembering our early morning conversation. Everybody else just sort of nodded and made little 'mm-hmm' noises… honestly, you'd think I was asking everybody to go to the dentist instead of on a nature walk. Still, I was pleased that we were all finally agreeing on it, and just chalked their lack of enthusiasm up to being hungry.


	2. Away 2

Part 2 – 'Davy Crockett with a frozen hat.'

Lunch should have been a simple enough affair. But like a lot of things about today, it didn't turn out the way I planned.

When we got back to the campsite, Dale immediately launched himself facefirst into the ice chest (another of Gadget's creations, made from an extra-large aspirin bottle that we sawed in half lengthwise and put hinges on). "Now, hold on," I chastised as I pulled him back. He already had a bit of dill pickle stuck to his whiskers, which he tried to dislodge with his tongue. "This stuff has to last us another full day. Besides, we should be making an effort to eat balanced, healthy meals." 

"Aw," was all Dale said as I marched him to the fold-out table we brought. 

"Too right," nodded Monty as he prepared to dig into a jar of spreadable swiss cheese with a plastic spoon. "You don't wanna turn into a porker, do ya, Dale?"

"That goes for everybody," I said as I grabbed Monty's spoon away from him. Fortunately he hadn't already started eating the cheese, or I never would have been able to clap the lid back on the jar. He gave me a flabbergasted look while I rolled it back into the supply bag. "I'm fixing lunch today," I announced. 

"Golly, what are we having?" asked Gadget as she sat down at the table next to Dale. Monty joined them, grumbling something under his breath about no meal being complete without spreadable cheese. Zipper perched on his shoulder… I noticed him trying to brush crumbs off his face when he thought I wasn't looking. He must have some crackers or cookies stashed somewhere.

"Something nutritious, yet satisfying," I replied, digging through the plates and bowls to get the things I needed. I caught the four of them giving each other worried little glances when I turned around holding the wire wisk. _That's gratitude for you,_ I thought. Left to their own devices, Dale would eat nothing but pickles, candy and chocolate covered nuts, Monty nothing but curdled dairy products, Zipper nothing but apple cores and Gadget… well, sometimes she gets so wrapped up in her workshop she forgets to eat at all. Sometimes I don't think they appreciate how lucky they are to have somebody responsible looking out for them. 

"Everybody just sit tight," I told them. "I'll have something whipped up in a jiffy." 

"Don't forget the caramel sauce," called Dale as I started to mix the ingredients together. It didn't take long to make lunch – it's an old recipe I found in the back of a health food magazine at the city dump. Fortunately I had everything I needed to do it right; raw mushroom, rice, chopped carrot, celery, a bit of radish, and a pinch of pepper. You just sort of mash everything into a paste, then serve it on a slice of bread. 

Okay, I'll admit it doesn't really look that appetizing, but the looks on their faces when I brought the plates out and set them down… you'd have thought I'd presented them with gobs of mud or something. 

They all stared down at the table for a few seconds, then up at me. "No caramel sauce?" Dale asked in that sad puppy-dog way he has when he's disappointed. 

"No, this is better. One serving has a full day's worth of vitamins and minerals," I tried to explain, but Dale was poking at his like it was some kind of alien creature. 

"Yeah, but it doesn't have a full second's worth of flavor," complained Monty after he took a little nibble. Zipper just stayed on his shoulder and stared down at the plate, eyes wide.

"Oh, come on, guys," I pleaded. "It won't kill you to start eating right. Gadget, you like it, don't you?"

She noticed me staring at her and grinned, then took a hefty bite of her lunch. I was hoping she at least would appreciate the importance of a balanced meal, but as she chewed her grin got kind of lopsided and weird. I could see she was only trying to make me happy, which somehow made me feel worse.

"You know, if you mash a whole bunch of potato chips into it, it tastes kinda salty," said Dale. He'd poured taco sauce onto his as well. 

I sighed and turned back to the pile of dirty dishes. As I started to stack them I overheard Monty whisper to Dale: "I'll give you a full wedge of brie '86 for a shot o' that taco sauce, mate."

We all ate quietly. I caught a glimpse of Dale flicking a bit of his lunch off into the bushes with his fork when he thought I wasn't looking, but I didn't say anything. '_Well, fine'_ I thought, _'tonight they can all just eat a bunch of Twinkies for dinner.'_

Once everybody was finished, I started giving out cleanup assignments again. I figured we'd rotate, so that everybody had a different job this time… no need for things to get boring, after all. But even though I gave Dale the job of putting plates away instead of washing, he got all huffy and crossed his arms.

"Oh, not that again," he grumbled. 

"What do you mean? It's time for cleanup."

"It's time for you to lighten up," he snapped. "We're on vacation, remember?" he asked, poking his finger at my chest.

"So what?" I replied, feeling my temper start to rise. 

"So we're supposed to be having fun!"

"We are having fun!" By this point we'd leaned in so close to each other that our noses were bumping together. I could see that firey gleam Dale always gets in his eyes when he's getting ready to pounce on me, so I started to brace myself for a tussle when to my surprise Gadget appeared beside us and slipped her paws around our shoulders. 

"Now guys, let's not fight," she said with a smile. Ordinarily I'm kind of disarmed by her presence, but right then my hackles were really up, and apparently so were Dale's because we kept glowering at each other and bumping noses.

"Then tell Dale not to be such a slob!" I growled.

"While you're at it, tell Chip not to be such a big ol' stick in the mud!"

"Grrr!"

"Growf!"

We were just about to leap onto each other when Gadget somehow managed to wedge her paws between us and push us apart – I'm always a little surprised by how much stronger she is than she looks. "No fighting!" she yelled, holding us at arm's length. I guess both Dale and I were rather taken aback, because we both turned to stare at her instead of at each other. "Guys, this is ridiculous. Besides, you're both right. Dale," she said, turning to face him, "we are here to relax and have fun, but we still have to clean up after ourselves. And Chip," she continued, looking at me, "it's okay if we all loosen up a little. Everything that needs to get done will get done, even if it's not totally by the book. Okay?" She beamed at us as though she'd just presented the solution to world peace.

For a long moment there was complete silence in the campground. Dale and I stared back at each other. From somewhere far off I heard the wind whispering through the branches. Then he and I let out simultaneous yells and jumped on each other. I flopped backwards onto the ground with a thump in a tangle of brown furry limbs that were either mine or his, I don't know. For a brief moment I thought I saw Gadget standing above us, slapping her paw against her forehead. Then we started to roll, flailing at each other, biting and snarling and hollering rude things that I don't think anybody else understood (unless the others have learned to speak Chipmunk without telling us). 

"Slob, am I? Take that!"

"Who's a stick in the mud? I'll stick you in the mud!"

Somehow we ended up crashing into the table. All I can really remember is a loud smashing sound, a whirl of brown fur with white and black stripes, some plates crashing down around my head, and a sudden heavy weight pressing on my chest. Then a single cup pinged off an overturned chair leg, bounced into the air, and landed perfectly on my upturned foot. 

It took a little while, but once my head stopped spinning and things swam into focus, I realized that I was flat on my back, the tablecloth tangled halfway around me like a toga, and that Dale was draped unceremoniously over me, facedown with a small pot over his head. 

"Now look what you did," I said.

"Oog," he replied. 

Suddenly Monty was looming over us, his big paws reaching down to clasp us by the scruffs of our necks. "'Ere, that's enough of that," he said as he hoisted us up and set us down on our feet. He kept his paws on us so we couldn't go at it again, though truthfully I think the storm had passed by that point anyway… I could only see the lower half of Dale's face from underneath the pot, but I could tell he was trying hard not to smile. 

"Honestly, it's like camping with a couple o' wild dingoes," griped Monty as he finally let us go. 

Dale peered up at me from beneath his pot. I looked back at him, my tablecloth toga still wrapped around me and that little cup stuck to my toes. There was another long silence. Then we both burst out laughing.

"Oh, I give up," said Gadget as she walked past us, her arms outspread in one of those 'why me?' gestures. 

Dale and I laughed so hard we had to clap our paws against each other's shoulders to keep from falling back over. We kept going until my sides hurt and little tears were beaded up at the corners of my eyes. I'm not sure why, but for some reason I just can't stay mad at him for very long, no matter what he's done. 

Finally our laughter petered out, save the occasional little hiccuping sound from Dale as he struggled not to start giggling again. "Hey, guess who?" he asked me. Reaching up, he swiveled the pot around so that the handle was in back and struck a heroic pose. 

"Who are you supposed to be, the Tin Man?" I asked, wiping a tear from the corner of my eye. 

"No, you goober, I'm Davy Crockett with a frozen hat."

I plucked the tin cup from my foot. "I guess I'd have to be a furry Julius Caesar, then," I replied, bundling my impromptu toga up around my shoulders.

"Julius who?" Zipper buzzed as he hovered beside Dale.

"Oh, you know," Dale replied. "He's the guy who invented salad."

After we'd finally cleaned everything up I retreated to our tent and put together a bunch of stuff that I thought we'd need on our hike – a water bottle, a telescope made from a pen cap, a compass (much smaller and easier to use than that huge cookie-sized one Dale brought), a little spool of rope, and of course my nature guide. These I shuffled into my backpack, which I slung over my shoulder as I stepped back outside, fully expecting that we'd be on our way in another minute. 

As it turned out, I was in for another disappointment. 

When I walked back to the center of our campsite, Dale was propped back in a fold-out chair with a comic book open in his lap, Monty was playing catch with Zipper, and Gadget was tinkering with the stove. 

"Hey, guys, don't you want to get ready?" I asked.

"Hmm?" Dale mumbled without looking up from what looked like a new issue of 'Space Hamsters'. 

"Wot's that, Chipper?" asked Monty as he caught the acorn he and Zipper were throwing. 

"We were going on a hike, remember?" 

"Oh, no," said Gadget as she marched past me, a socket wrench clutched in her paw. "There's no way I'm going out on a trail with the two of you." She waved her wrench at Dale and me as she spoke. "The way you guys fight, we'd be lucky to make it back in one piece."

"But - !"

"I'm staying right here where at least it's a controlled environment." And with that, she spun on her heels and disappeared into her tent. A moment later I heard the sound of a ratchet being furiously spun. 

"B-but…"

"Gadget's too right," muttered Monty as he tossed the acorn back to Zipper. "I came out here to relax, not play referee."

"I, er…" Try as I might, I couldn't think of anything to say. Clearly Gadget, Monty and Zipper had made up their minds not to come. That just left Dale. I walked over to his chair. "Dale?"

He glanced up at me with an awkward little frown on his face. "Aw, maybe they're right," he said. He was embarrassed, I realized, either because of our scuffle or because he was backing out of going on our hike. "Maybe we ought to just take it easy and cool our jets for now." My disappointment must have shown, because he got a sad look in his eyes and folded his comic book up onto his chest. "Hey, why don'tcha read one of your 'Sureluck Jones' books or somethin'? Or you could borrow one of my comics…"

"Doesn't anybody want to come hiking with me?" I asked to nobody in particular.

"It's just, I think we'd all rather spend the afternoon relaxing, is all," he said. "Maybe we could do it tomorrow… hey, where're you going?"

I'd already started marching out of the campsite toward the bushes. "I'll go by myself, then," I said without turning around.


	3. Away 3

Part 3 – 'Attack of the woodchopper doohickey.'

I'm not really sure how long I went stomping through the undergrowth before I finally stopped. I was panting and nearly out of breath, both from walking fast and because I was kind of mad. Well, okay, I was really mad. 

It wasn't like I was being unreasonable with everybody, or asking for the moon on a silver platter. All I'd wanted was a little cooperation. We're a team, after all… was it too much to ask that we act like one? Besides, I was only trying to help everybody have a good time.

What a warm and toasty display of appreciation I got for all my efforts. They didn't like the lunch I fixed. They blamed me for that scuffle with Dale. They didn't want to go hiking with me. _Okay, fine,_ I thought. _I'll have a great time all by my self._

I crossed my arms and waited for my heart to stop hammering. Scowling, I looked around and saw for the first time where I was. Sunlight was streaking through the tangled branches of an oak tree, casting twisty shadows on a vast carpet of soft green moss that covered the clearing I was standing in. The tree was old, ancient, its bark cracked and grey and dripping with lichen. It's gnarled roots stuck up from the ground, partly covering a huge white boulder that sparkled with flecks of quartz crystal. Small fan-like orange mushrooms were growing from the sides of the trunk on slender stems. All around my feet were fallen brown acorns. Everything was silent, save for the whispered rush of wind in the uppermost branches. 

 _How beautiful, _I thought. I wondered if anybody else had ever seen this little piece of the forest before. Sighing, I reached down and picked up an acorn. I picked off the cap, then nibbled down through the brittle shell to the nut inside. It was a good one, nice and crunchy, so I sat down and chewed at it. As I did so, my belly started to gurgle and I realized that I was still kind of hungry in spite of having just finished lunch. 

Before long I had four empty acorn shells at my feet. I stifled a burp and leaned back on the moss, looking up through the branches at little patches of blue sky that peeked through. I wasn't angry anymore, but neither did I really feel like going on a hike. What fun was it, really, without my friends?

Maybe I had overreacted, a little. Maybe I shouldn't have fought with Dale. Maybe I should have gone swimming with everybody. 

My good intentions aside, was it possible my friends had a point? After all, everybody else seemed to be having fun… could it be that I was pushing too hard? Maybe I was missing the whole point of going on vacation in the first place. Maybe I really was just a big ol' stick in the mud after all.

I sighed again and kicked at an acorn shell. 

It was about an hour later when I came back to camp. Monty was sprawled in one of our fold-out chairs, snoozing away with Zipper draped over his shoulder like a limp blue slinky. They were both snoring. No sign of Gadget… she was probably taking a nap too. 

I was just starting to wonder where Dale had gotten to when I caught a flash of orange and yellow out of the corner of my eye. Turning, I saw him rocking gently back and forth in his neck-tie hammock, which he'd strung up between two nearby shrubs. He had his arms folded behind his head and a dreamy little smile on his face. I thought he was asleep, but after a moment he opened his eyes and looked over at me. He reached a paw up and waved. 

I walked over to him. He looked up at me, still smiling. "Heya," he said softly so as not to wake the others. "How was your hike?"

"Ah, it was okay," I replied. "I didn't go very far."

"You should'a stuck around. Monty made cheese and crackers."

"Sorry I missed that… I guess my lunch didn't really hit the spot, did it?" 

He grinned, showing off those two buck teeth of his. "You just need to remember the caramel sauce next time."

"Oh, that reminds me," I said, digging my paws into my backpack. "I brought you some acorns." I set a pair of fat brown acorns down by his side. 

"Oooh, western striped," he said, nodding appreciatively. "We never get these back home. Thank you."

"No problem. Well, I think I'm gonna take your advice and go read a book. I'll be in our tent if you need me." I turned and started to walk away.

"Say, Chip?" he said. 

I stopped and turned back around. "Mm?"

He was regarding me with an uncharacteristically thoughtful look on his face, one eyewhisker arched up. "Are you feelin' okay?"

I blinked, surprised at the question. "I… well, yeah. I'm fine. Why do you ask?"

"Oh, well, you know… just checking." He continued to regard me with that thoughtful expression. It took me a few moments to realize that he was genuinely concerned about me. Maybe I still looked upset, or something.

Not wanting him to worry, I gave him another smile and a thumbs-up, then kept walking back to our tent. I couldn't see it, but I'm sure he was still watching me all the way up until I stepped inside and buttoned the door shut. 

I curled up on top of my sleeping bag and opened up my brand new rodent-sized copy of 'Sureluck Jones and the Case of the Mysterious Puddle'. Nothing soothes me quite like a good mystery novel, and this one is shaping up to be a real corker (as I write this I'm still only on chapter 6). I devoured the first four chapters in what seemed like a flash, lost in a twilight world of fog and gaslamps, cobblestone streets and shadowy alleyways. But as I started in on chapter 5 my eyelids started to droop, and by the time I got to the part where Sureluck breaks down the door at the chemist's shop to find the key witness gone and only a large puddle of orange juice in his place, I was having a hard time keeping my eyes open.

I don't usually take naps, but right then I decided that I'd like nothing better. So I took off my jacket and hat, then crawled into my sleeping bag and shut my eyes.

The next thing I knew, I was being woken up by somebody gently but insistently shaking my shoulder. I managed to get my eyes open and found myself staring straight up into Dale's face. "Whaaa?" I groaned.

"Wakey wakey, sleepyhead. Time to get up," he said, still nudging at my shoulder.

"I'm 'wake," I said, pushing his paw away. 

"About time, too. You've been asleep for hours. Come on, it's almost time to start dinner." He scooted back over his own sleeping bag and disappeared through the open tent flap. A moment later, though, his face reappeared. "Wow, Chip, you've gotta get out here and see what Gadget built! Come on, up up up!" Then he disappeared again… I heard his feet padding hastily away. 

I groaned again and let my head flop back onto my pillow. Had I really been asleep for hours? Apparently so, because the sunlight on the tent roof had gone pale and grey, while the shadows from the branches overhead were lost in the evening gloom. From far off, I could hear the crickets starting up their nightly songs. It took me a few minutes, but finally my vision came back into focus and the last cobwebs of sleep drifted out of my mind. I sat up, stretched, then got dressed. What is it about camping that leaves you so exhausted, anyway? Maybe it's all the fresh air. 

I stepped outside into the cool air, stretched again, and buttoned up the tent flap. I'm not sure what I was expecting, but when I turned around, my jaw popped open and I nearly did a double-take. The others had gathered around our makeshift fire pit in a little circle, Gadget waving her arms as she spoke excitedly and pointed at… at… actually I'm still not completely sure what to call it. 

It was large and made of what looked like cobbled-together parts from a blender. From a distance it resembled a space probe, with its cylindrical metal body and three spindly tripod legs. The center of it was hollow; I could see the top end of a thick piece of wood sticking up from it. Above that dangled some kind of scary-looking three pronged hook with a large and very sharp blade pointing down from its middle. I could hear Gadget telling the others, "Of course, it started off as an ice cream maker, but you know, once I started tinkering…"

At least I remembered to close my mouth before I walked cautiously over to the fire pit and stood beside Dale and Monty. "Uh…" I said.

"Oh, there you are, Chip. We were waiting for you," Gadget said, beaming.

Trying to ignore the ominous implications of her words, I pointed at the whatever-it-was over the fire pit. "What…?"

"Oh, right. You've probably never seen a high-pressure self guiding rotary bit 6000 psi timber bisector before, have you?" 

The rest of us exchanged puzzled glances. After a moment, Dale leaned forward and pointed at it. "Can it fly?" he asked tentatively. 

Gadget raised a paw to her mouth and giggled. "No, but it can do this." She flipped a little red switch. Immediately the air was filled with an ominous humming sound, which grew louder until it was almost enough to vibrate your teeth. Suddenly the metal hook lowered itself down on a thin cable. The tip of the blade buried itself in the piece of wood with a soft _thunk! _Then the three prongs straightened out and began whirling around and making really scary gnashing sounds. 

Now, I've seen plenty of creepy science fiction movies over the years… hardly a week goes by that Dale doesn't park us all on the couch to watch some marathon of rampaging alien monster flicks. But I've never seen any futuristic gizmo quite as frightening as Gadget's 'bisector' in action. 

Apparently I wasn't the only one having concerns, because we all took a step backwards in unison. Everybody except Gadget, of course. She was leaning over the thing, her head much closer to the spinning prongs than I would have liked as she tinkered and poked at a side panel with a screwdriver. 

"Say, Gadget, love!" called Monty. "Are you sure that's safe?"

She glanced over at us. "Sure I'm sure. It's harmless… as long as you're careful," she replied, still poking at the side panel. "There, that ought to do it," she said to herself. Suddenly there was loud crunching sound as the whirling prongs stopped spinning and buried themselves in the piece of wood. "The self guiding mechanism is a bit wonky," she told us with a bashful shrug. 

For a moment the only sound was the ominous hum that rumbled from somewhere in the depths of the machine. Then the blade shot down through the piece of wood with a sound like a gunshot. A spray of brown splinters puffed up into the air and sprinkled down over Gadget's shoulders, which I don't think she even noticed. 

The rest of us all yelped at the same time and leaped backwards, nearly falling over each other in a heap. I steadied myself by grabbing onto Monty's arm. I looked back at the 'bisector' in time to see the prongs retract and release the piece of wood… actually I should say _pieces_ of wood, because a moment later a pair of perfectly split sticks of firewood dropped down into our firepit. 

"Crikey," said Monty. "All that song and dance for a bit o' kindling?"

"Well, sure," Gadget replied with just a hint of indignance in her voice. "We do need firewood, after all."

"Gadget, love, I know you're a mechanical whiz and all, but don't you think that's a bit of overkill? Why, I could do the same job with a good old-fashioned axe in a couple of seconds!" 

"Yeah, but you couldn't cut as perfectly as the bisector does. These log halves are precisely identical down to their weight in milligrams." She crossed her arms. So did Monty.

"I may not be precise, but I do know a thing or two about starting a campfire," he grumbled. Meanwhile, Dale, who was clearly a lot more impressed than Monty, had darted over to the 'bisector' and was poking his nose around its various openings. 

"Wowie, I bet you could punch through concrete with this thing!" he chattered excitedly. 

"Or a chipmunk's head," I snapped as I grabbed the scruff of his neck and pulled him back. "Gadget, I don't mean to doubt your abilities, but to be honest I'm a little concerned about this thing…"

"What do you mean?" she asked. "I told you, it's perfectly – "

She didn't get a chance to finish her sentence, because at the same moment there was a loud electrical pop and a bunch of glowing yellow sparks spat out of the side of the 'bisector'. Gadget's eyes went wide and she sort of froze in place, as though the short circuit had happened in her head instead of in the machine. Then she spun on her heels, screwdriver in paw, and advanced on it. It continued to spark and make weird grinding sounds, and smoke had started to pour from the side panel too. "Golly, I thought I had that activator circuit fixed," she said. She turned to face us. "Dale, did you…?"

"I never touched it," Dale said defiantly as he shook his head. 

"Huh, you're right, this short is way back in the secondary router…" She'd started poking her paws around in the side panel, heedless of the sizzling sparks that popped out of it. 

"Gadget!" I cried, stepping toward her. "Leave it!" I reached my paws down around her shoulders and tried to pull her away, but she shrugged me off and I stumbled backwards.

"It's okay, I can fix this in a jiffy!"

Suddenly the air was again filled with that horrible metal gnashing sound. I stared up and saw that the metal prongs had begun to whirl around again. Only this time they weren't just spinning, they were weaving and bobbing in the air on their cable, which was dangling loose. The blade in the center started whipping back and forth not inches from Gadget's head. "Gadget, come on! We don't need firewood that bad! Come _on!_" I started tugging at her shoulders again. Suddenly Dale was at my side. Without a word he reached down and wrapped his arms around her middle. Together, we were able to pull her away from the side of the machine. 

"Guys, really, it's not that bad," she complained as we started dragging her away, screwdriver still in paw. There was a dark smear of oil on one of her cheeks. 

The humming had risen to a high-pitched whine that was accompanied by grinding sounds. Suddenly the machine started making noises like popcorn bursting. Then its sides began to crumple like a tin can, causing the tripod legs to bend. The whirling hook started whipsawing back and forth, zooming through the air like a little helicopter blade. Dale and I continued to drag Gadget away, but at least she wasn't struggling anymore. Instead she stared at her self-destructing machine with what could only have been a mournful look on her face. 

All of a sudden Monty passed us by – he was marching right at the berzerk contraption with, of all things, the axe he'd been talking about slung over his shoulder. Zipper was pulling frantically at the back of his shirt, to little avail. 

"Monty, what are you doing?" I cried. 

"By crikey, I'm gonna show this tin-plated monstrosity a thing or two about precise cuts! Menace my friends, will ya?"

"Are you crazy?" I hollered. "Just leave it!"

But he wasn't listening. Monty stomped straight up to the machine with a determined scowl on his face and started to raise the axe. Zipper ducked behind his back and covered his eyes.

"Uh oh," I heard Dale say. 

Then Monty swung. At the same moment, the whirling metal hook shot out at him like a striking cobra. The cable twanged as it yanked the hook backwards, causing it to fly straight up in a flash of gleaming steel. There was sudden loud crack, like wood breaking. Then, with a thunderous bang, the whole machine crumpled in on itself, belching little orange flames and puffs of black smoke. As if in slow motion, it toppled over on its side, one spindly leg sticking straight up… I half-expected it to twitch, like a slain creature in one of Dale's horror movies. 

Slowly, Monty turned around to face us. His eyes were glassy, his moustache drooped. Clutched in his paw was half of the axe handle. It had been sheared off just above above his fingers. Zipper's head peeped up over his shoulder, eyes wide. 

"Monty, are you okay?" I called. 

"Crikey," he said, his voice hoarse. After a moment he reached up and started touching his nose, as though reassuring himself that it was still there. We all rushed over to make sure he wasn't hurt. He just stood there while we checked him over, staring down at what was left of the axe in his paw. 

"Monty, tell me you're fine!" said Gadget as she patted his arms up and down. 

"Gadget, love," he said after a pause. "I am really, really glad you're on our side."

She broke into a broad smile and hugged him. "Golly, I'd never forgive myself if anybody ever got hurt because of something I built… you're sure you're okay?"

"Not so much as a scratch," he said as he hugged her back. "But next time, build an ice cream maker, okay?"


	4. Away 4

Part 4 – 'Chipmunk devil pizza.'

After everything had more or less calmed down, we got our campfire going (Monty provided us with some imprecise but quite flammable firewood) and set about fixing dinner. The sun had gone down by the time we'd set the table, leaving behind a sunset that was every bit the equal of that magnificent sunrise I'd enjoyed this morning.

"Wow, look at that," Dale said in wonderment as he stared up overhead. 

"Yeah, I wish we got sunsets like this back home," I agreed as I leaned back and took in the view. Through the branches overhead, the sky looked as though it had been washed in pink lemonade and speckled with wisps of orange cotton candy. 

"Hmm? Oh, no, I meant that," replied Dale as he pointed into the branches. I moved to stand behind him and peered over his shoulder. Far overhead, maybe 30 feet up, I caught sight of a dull metallic gleam on the underside of a thick redwood branch. I squinted into the fading light and realized that it was the steel 3-pronged hook from Gadget's defunct machine, embedded halfway into the wood.

"Whoa," I whispered. Dale and I looked at each other with what were probably identical little frowns on our faces. "Let's not show that to Monty, okay?"

Dale nodded in agreement.

Fortunately Monty was too busy helping Gadget lug the last remnants of the 'bisector' back into her tent to notice what Dale and I were looking at. 

"You're not gonna rebuild this thing, are you?" Monty asked her as he pulled a large scorched piece of metal through her tent flap. 

"No," I heard her say from inside. "But maybe I can salvage some of the parts to make something else."

"How about a machine that makes mathematically perfect donuts?"

"Now, Monty…"

Dale and I giggled to ourselves, then turned our attentions to the camp stove. It didn't take long to get out a bunch of pots, pans, and that old skillet we've had forever that's made from a large bottle cap. Once the pan was heated up, Dale started frying up some pieces of tortilla. I stood beside him, peeling cherry tomatoes.

"Tell me again what you're fixing?" I asked him.

"Pizza de diable faite par des chipmunks," he replied.

"I – " It took a second for his words to sink in. When they did I blinked and stared at him. "Dale, you can speak French?"

"Nope," he said with a grin as he held up a pair of tongs and snapped them in the air. "I speak food. 'Chipmunk devil pizza.' It's my own recipe." He puffed his chest out proudly and flipped a tortilla. "Now, we'll need some cayenne pepper, some cumin, a sprig of basil, oregano, and that can of tomato paste from the supply bag. Oh yeah, and the caramel sauce."

We don't often let Dale cook back at Ranger Headquarters. It's not that he can't cook, it's just that he's got a propensity for breaking dishes and knocking stuff over that is unparalleled even by professional demolitions experts. But tonight he'd insisted, practically pleading with me to let him fix something special for everybody. "Pleeeease?" he'd asked, throwing in those sad puppy eyes for good measure. I couldn't refuse, since it was clear he really had his heart set on it… besides, I'd thought, it wasn't like turning him loose in the kitchen back home. Even Dale couldn't make too much of a mess with just our little camp stove, right?

I should know better than to underestimate him like that. Within the space of ten minutes he'd managed to bend the tongs, crack a glass measuring cup, drop not one but three peeled tomatoes, catch the edge of a plastic plate on fire, and cover himself in salt. 

"Dale," I said, struggling to keep my voice even while he shook the salt out of his arm fur. "Are you sure you don't want me to – "

"No no no, it's all under control," he assured me as he reached for a wooden spoon. A sauce pan was bubbling away on the camp stove, its contents red and gooey and spattering little crimson gobs onto his shirt. He stirred, then lifted the steaming spoon to his lips, flicked his tongue out and tasted it. "Hmm, more vinegar, I think."

He poured a dash of garlic vinegar into the sauce pan, then leaned to one side and started rifling through the collection of spice bottles he'd set up on the cutting board. 

"Dale…?"

"Parsley, where's the parsley?"

"Dale!"

"What?" He glanced over at me, a pinch of green powder between his fingers.

"Are you done with the spoon?"

He arched his eyewhiskers, puzzled. "Uh, no. Why?"

"It's burning."

Somehow he'd managed to touch the end of the spoon to the heating element on the stove, where it had ignited. He stared down for a moment, dumbfounded, while a flickering orange flame danced on the end of it. "Yeek!" he cried at last, then flung it into the sauce pan. There was a soft hiss as the flame was extinguished, followed by a little wisp of smoke. He turned back to me and grinned sheepishly, the tips of his ears going pink as he blushed. "Um, gives it a nice smoky flavor…?"

"How's supper coming along, then?" asked Monty as he walked up behind us. 

I was just getting ready to let loose with a wisecrack about Dale's ability to fire up the stove when Dale leaned around me and thrust the spoon toward my face.

"It's fine, it's coming along just fine, isn't it, Chip?"

Not wanting to be drenched in sauce, I simply feigned a smile and nodded at Monty. 

"Bonzer, 'cause Zipper and me are starvin'."

"It's almost ready, so why doesn't everybody sit down and I'll bring dinner out in a minute?" 

Monty saluted Dale, then spun on his heels and walked back to the table. Gadget was already sitting down and chatting with Zipper about some odd gizmo she was holding that looked like a spring with a little green light stuck to the end. 

As soon as Monty was out of earshot, I turned back to Dale and asked, "Are you _sure_ you don't want any help?"

He just gave me one of his quirky little smiles and twirled the spoon in his fingers. "Trust me," he said. Then he went back to stirring the sauce. 

I went back to the table and joined the others. 

"So what are we having?" asked Gadget as she tied a napkin around her neck. "It smells great."

"It's pizza de… del… uh, evil chipmunk pizza," I replied, silently chastising myself for not sticking with that 'learn French by mail' course I started last year. 

Monty, Zipper and Gadget all exchanged worried glances. Monty leaned close to me and whispered, "Does that mean the pizza is evil, or the chipmunk who's cookin' it is?"

"I guess we'll know in a second," I whispered back. 

A moment later Dale approached us with a large plastic plate held high over his head. I could see wisps of steam drifting up from it. "Ta dah!" he cried happily as he set it down in the middle of the table. We all stared down at what appeared to be an elaborate combination of tortilla, sauce, melted cheese, mushrooms, onions, lots of weird little red bits, chunky green bits, chopped nuts, and more tortilla on top. The cheese was leaking out of the sides, still bubbling, and there was some kind of crumbly brown powder sprinkled over everything. It was probably the weirdest looking thing I'd seen all day, except maybe for Gadget's firewood machine. But as the steam wafted up past my nose, I had to admit that it did smell good.

"Hang on, let me cut this," said Dale as he hoisted up a plastic knife and began slicing the 'pizza' into large wedges. 

"Wow…" Gadget said as Dale slid a slice onto her plate. "It's… uh… wow."

"Just wait until you taste it," he replied, beaming. Soon we all had matching slices in front of us – mine was trailing a big gob of cheese, which Monty kept eyeballing covetously even though he had plenty of his own right under his nose. 

"Well, dig in, everybody." Dale had already picked up his slice. He took a large bite and chewed with a blissful look on his face, as though he'd just sunk his teeth into the most delicious thing in the world. 

The rest of us were, perhaps, a bit more hesitant as we all picked up our food in unison and gave each other worried little glances, like we were preparing to head into battle. Then we all nibbled down on the corners of our pizza wedges.

I'm not sure if I can accurately describe the intense explosion of mingled flavors that suddenly coated my tongue. For a moment all I could do was hold still and try to process the signals my mouth was sending to my brain… what in the world was I eating? It seemed to be salty, sweet, tangy, crispy, gooey, and peppery hot all at once. I even thought I could taste a hint of peanut butter in there somewhere. Little crumbs of that brown powdery stuff dribbled from my whiskers – was it toasted parmesean cheese? Garlic? Both? Blinking, I looked around to see what everybody else's reactions were.

Monty, Zipper and Gadget's eyes were wide, their pizza slices motionless in their fingers. For a long moment nobody spoke. Finally Dale stopped chewing and looked around at us. "Um… how is it?" he asked hesitantly.

"It's…" said Gadget.

"It's so…" buzzed Zipper.

"Dale, this is _completely bonzer!_" cried Monty, so loudly that Dale actually flinched as though he thought Monty was about to throw something at him. "I've never tasted anything like it! Crikey, it's incredible," he mumbled through a huge mouthful. 

Monty's praise finally sunk into Dale's head. He broke into a proud grin and said, "It's my own recipe."

"It's absolutely delicious," agreed Gadget as she took another bite. "It's like everything I like to eat all mashed together in one big glob!"

"Yeah!" nodded Zipper. He began attacking his pizza vigorously. 

I was still trying to decide if I was enjoying my dinner or not when my belly answered for me with a loud, hungry gurgle. I took another bite, still trying to untangle the various flavors from one another, but I gave up after a few moments. It was like alchemy or something. Dale had created a meal that defied reason, using ingredients that shouldn't have gone together but did somehow. And the others were right – it was delicious. I ate my whole slice in a couple of minutes, then joined the others for a second helping.  

It wasn't long before the serving plate was empty, except for a few dribbles of cheese and sauce that Zipper hovered over while he dipped his fingers into them. Everybody else leaned back in their chairs and sighed contentedly. 

"Right dinkum tucker, pally," said Monty.

"Thanks," replied Dale as he scrubbed the corners of his mouth with his napkin. A moment later he kind of half-stifled a belch, then blushed at his eartips again. "'Scuse."

I tried not to, but somewhere at the back of my mind I couldn't help but compare the glowing reception Dale's dinner had gotten from everybody to the sorry response my own attempt at cooking had received earlier. As much as everyone had enjoyed the pizza, my vegetable mix sandwiches had earned just the opposite reaction… heck, even I hadn't really liked them, when you got down to it. 

It wasn't so much that I felt like I was competing with Dale; it was just that nothing I had tried so far seemed to get the results I wanted. 

I mean, I can out-think criminal masterminds, I've solved mysteries all over the world, I can handle myself in just about any fight… why is it that something as simple as going on vacation and relaxing with my friends has me so flummoxed? 

Dale snapped me out of my introspective thoughts by waving his paw in front of my face. 

"Uh?"

"Earth to Chip… you still with us, buddy-ol'-pal?"

"What? Er, yeah, I'm fine."

Dale smiled and handed me a stack of dirty plates. "Good, 'cause you're on dishwashing duty tonight."

If I needed any reminders of why we don't often let Dale into the kitchen, the giant pile of dirty pots, pans, plates, cups, and utensils stacked up in our portable sink was more than enough. I swear, he'd managed to use virtually every cooking implement we'd brought. At least we'd thought to bring plastic plates, which even Dale couldn't break no matter how many times he dropped them. 

Once I'd removed my jacket, I stood at the sink, dipped my paws down into a pool of hot, sudsy water, and scrubbed at the caked-on remnants of dinner. 

"Aw, don't look so glum," said Dale as he wiped a dry rag around inside a clean cup. "I thought you'd be happy that we're all cleaning up after ourselves."

"How on Earth did you manage to get butter in the tea strainer?" I asked.

"I dunno… it just sort of ended up that way." He glanced at me. "You did like it, didn't you? Dinner, I mean."

"Sure I did," I replied. "It really hit the spot. Actually, it hit some spots I didn't even know I had."

He giggled, then reached for a pot and began to dry it. "I'm glad, then… I guess I wasn't really sure. You seemed kinda quiet."

I scrubbed the sponge around the edges of a dirty pan. "I suppose I've just had a few things on my mind today, is all."

He paused his pot drying and looked over at me. "Anything you want to talk about?"

"It's nothing important." I kept scrubbing, then stopped and looked back at him. "I just… you don't really think I'm a stick in the mud, do you?"

He tilted his head to one side and regarded me thoughtfully. "Well, sometimes, maybe." Then he gave me one of his quirky little smiles and said, "But you're my favorite stick in the mud," as he reached his paw out to gently beep me on the nose. 

I smiled back at him, then returned my attention to the dirty dishes. Dale kept looking at me for a few moments, then started drying again.


	5. Away 5

Part 5 – 'Ghost stories and marshmallows.'

By the time everything was cleaned, dried, and packed away, the last of the sunlight had faded. The sky went from washed-out blue to the dark purple of a ripe plum. Stars began to appear, glittering hard and bright like little flakes of diamond on a velvet background. 

A faint but cool breeze started to whisper through the branches – I shivered and put my jacket back on, then made my way over to the campfire, which by now was blazing and crackling away invitingly. Pretty soon we'd all pulled our chairs up and were sitting in a circle around the fire pit. For a little while everything was quiet, save the snap and hiss of sap catching fire. 

"Say, Chip," Dale said from his chair, which was beside mine. "I just realized we forgot our flashlights back in the tent… would you mind getting them?"

"Do you really think we'll need them?" I asked, not wanting to get up.

He gave me an incredulous look. "How can you tell ghost stories without a flashlight?"

"All right, all right…" I grumbled, then stood up and made my way back to our tent. It was already so dark that everything had become an indistinct jumble of shadows. I paused and looked up again. There was a space overhead where you could see clearly through the branches to where the crescent moon hung low in the sky, just a pale white sliver surrounded by stars… Dale was right, there wouldn't be enough moonlight for us to see by. 

I opened the tent flap and slipped inside, then spent the next five minutes fumbling around trying to find our flashlights. Mine was easy enough, because I'd thought to pack it right near the top next to my spare washcloth. Dale's, on the other paw, required a major search through the vast clutter of junk that was crammed into his travel bag. Even with my flashlight on, it was slow going. At first I tried to be careful and not rifle things up too much, but after a couple of minutes it became clear that it made absolutely no difference, so I just jammed my paws down into it and started rummaging.

I found, among other things, a magic 8-ball, a rubber eraser in the shape of a duck, six plastic army men, a roll of green ribbon, an aspirin tin that had a bunch of candy orange slices in it, a pen, a little dogeared spiral notebook with 'My Diary' scribbled on it, a map of Chicago, some handkerchiefs, a chocolate cigar, a pair of swim shorts with a big rip in them, a half-eaten roll of mints, a bottlecap with a picture of a pirate ship on it, and two crumpled 'Kablammo Man' comic books. Finally, way at the bottom, I found Dale's flashlight.

Sighing to myself in annoyance, I clicked it on to make sure it worked (it did, amazingly), then stuffed it into my jacket pocket and left the tent. 

When I made my way back to the campfire, I was surprised to find everybody all kind of huddled together with their heads down. I could see Dale's ears bobbing back and forth as he chattered something too softly for me to hear. Gadget was nodding… I think I heard her say, "Sure, no problem," but I can't be sure. 

"Um, what's up?" I asked as I walked back into the circle of firelight.

"Yeek!" Dale cried as everybody suddenly stood up straight. "Oh, uh, did you find the flashlights already?"

"No thanks to your organizational skills," I said as I handed him his light. "So, what was everyone talking about?"

"We were, ah, organizing dessert," said Monty.

"Dessert?"

In unison, they all whipped a bunch of metal sticks up like fencing foils. There were marshmallows stuck to the ends of them. "Here's yours," said Gadget as she handed me one. 

"Er, thanks," was all I could think to say. 

Maybe I was just being a little paranoid, but I couldn't shake the feeling that something weird was going on as we all took our places around the fire pit and held our marshmallows out over the glowing red coals. Everybody was chit-chatting like usual, but now and again I thought I caught the others glancing at each other in a secretive sort of way. 

Trying to ignore my nagging suspicions, I forced myself to relax and enjoy the sweet scent of toasting marshmallows that drifted up from the fire pit. Naturally Dale's caught on fire – he tried waving it around to blow out the flames, which only increased them. "Out out out!" he cried helplessly while he shook his stick and spun his flaming marshmallow around like a sizzling meteor. 

"Too bad, pally," said Monty. "You know, there's a real technique to toastin' a marshmallow… you've got to keep your eye on it every second. Why, I remember one time up in Alaska, we didn't have any marshmallows and had to resort to toastin' snowballs…" He got so wrapped up in his story that he didn't notice that his own marshmallow had started to dribble until it finally flopped right off the end of his stick and into the fire. "Oi!" he yelped, holding up his now empty stick and staring at it in disbelief. 

Zipper, who was hovering beside Monty, chuckled and continued turning his perfectly toasted marshmallow. 

"Aw," said Dale sadly as he held up the lump of charcoal on the end of his own stick.

"That's okay, guys, we've got plenty of marshmallows," Gadget said, holding up a plastic bag full of them. Dale immediately perked up and dug his paw into it, then plucked out three more. 

"Dale, you're going to make yourself sick," I warned when he started toasting all three at once. 

"Ah, come on, they're only mini-marshmallows."

"Mini-sized to humans, maybe. They're half as big as your head!"

"But – "

"No 'buts'. And on top of all that pizza, too… I'm not gonna listen to you bellyache about your aching belly all night. You can have three marshmallows, and that's all."

Dale lowered his chin and gave me a gloomy little pout. I don't know what's more pathetic, his puppy-dog eyes or the fact that I can't help but cave in whenever he uses them on me. 

I sighed. "Okay, four marshmallows, then." 

His ears perked and he happily continued toasting.

"But don't come crying to me if you get sick," I grumbled, but it was such a beautiful night, and everybody was having such a good time that I just couldn't stay annoyed. 

Crickets serenaded us with their soft chirrups while the cool breeze gently sifted through the trees. Orange firelight danced in a circle around our fire pit, flickering and radiating cozy warmth. Monty started up another of his tall tales, which we found ourselves listening to with rapt attention even though the part about fending off vampires with a bowl of seven-layer roasted garlic dip was pretty farfetched. 

Once my marshmallow was nice and golden, I held it up and bit into it. Pretty soon my whiskers were completely coated in sticky goo, but I didn't mind too much because I really do like toasted marshmallows.

"Mmmbrrghl," I heard Dale say. When I looked over at him, I saw that he'd somehow managed to cram all three of his marshmallows into his cheeks. Even for a chipmunk that's no small feat… his whole face looked puffed out, the lower half of it slathered in gummy white marshmallow goo. He looked ridiculous, but I bit my tongue and just let him stand there, chewing furiously (besides, I figured if I bonked him he might spit marshmallow at me). 

Once he'd managed to swallow most of it, he started licking at the corners of his mouth, to little avail. When he finally noticed that everybody else was staring at him, he blushed at his eartips and shrugged. "I didn't want them to get cold," he said, smacking his lips.

For the next minute or so Dale struggled to clean the lower half of his face, but all he really managed to do was spread the goo onto his paws and up over his nose. Finally I just couldn't take it anymore. "Oh, for crying out loud," I sighed as I walked over to the supply bag and took out a washcloth. I soaked it in water from the bucket next to the sink, then marched over to Dale and handed it to him.

"'Fanks," he said. He started wiping at his fur, but he obviously couldn't see what he was doing and kept missing the parts where his fur actually needed cleaning. 

"Let me do it," I said, taking the washcloth from him. Then I scrubbed at his face for what seemed like five minutes while he squirmed and twisted his head to and fro like a little kid who doesn't want to take a bath. "Would you hold still already? This is your own fault, you know, if you weren't so greedy you wouldn't have to… er…what?" 

The 'what' was aimed at Gadget, who was standing beside us with her paw over her mouth and apparently struggling not to laugh. "Nothing, guys, nothing," she sputtered between half-swallowed giggles. 

More than a little puzzled, Dale and I could only look at each other and shrug. Then I resumed wiping Dale's face, until at last it was clean. Once I was done, he preened his whiskers to straighten them out, then immediately started reaching for the bag of marshmallows. Anticipating another disaster, I grabbed it and held it out of reach.

"Well, you did say I could have four," he said. Before he had a chance to try his puppy-eyes on me again, I pulled a marshmallow out of the bag, grabbed the end of his stick, and skewered it into place.

"Eat this one slowly," I said. "Got that? _Slow-ly_."

When I turned around again, I saw that Gadget was still watching Dale and me with a weird little smile on her face. It took me a few moments to recognize it – it was the same 'aw, cute' expression humans get when they see us in the park back home. I'm quite fond of Gadget, but sometimes I have no idea what's going on in her head. 

I went back to the sink, rinsed the washcloth out and hung it up to dry, then walked back to the campfire. I was kind of hoping that we could spend the rest of the evening just quietly enjoying the fire and listening to the nighttime sounds of the forest, but just as I sat back down in my chair Dale grabbed up his flashlight, clicked it on, and held it under his chin. 

"Who's up for ghost stories?" he asked, giving us one of his best 'evil' grins (he really thinks he's scary when he does this, and I've never had the heart to tell him that he's about as menacing as one of those fuzzy little caterpillars you see in the petunias in City Park.)

"Oh, brother," I said as I propped my chin on my paw. 

"Right-o, pally, you asked for it," Monty said as he took the flashlight from Dale and held it up under his face. "I'll tell you a tale guaranteed to send icy-cold shivers of terror right up your striped spine!"

"Oooh," Dale replied eagerly as he rubbed his paws together and leaned forward. He probably didn't notice it, but Zipper, who was perched on Monty's shoulder, was rolling his eyes and smirking. 

"Golly, what kind of story is it?" asked Gadget.

"The most horrifying of all, Gadget, because this one is _absolutely_ _true_. After tonight, you may never sleep soundly again… now then, it all started when I was a much younger lad, barely out of mouse school and yearnin' for adventure…"

I felt another 'oh, brother' coming on, but this time I bit my tongue. 

Monty launched into his tall tale, which had something to do with ghosts, haunted castles, secret passageways, mysterious daggers, and, oddly enough, floating cheese. I hadn't really been prepared to do much more than listen politely, but after a little while, I had to admit that Monty's story started to seem kinda… well, creepy. Maybe it was because we were all alone in the dark of night with only our campfire for warmth, or maybe it was just Monty's way with words, but I started to find myself envisioning the dank stony corridors laced with cobwebs, the flickering candles, the pale ghostly paw that reached out through the old oil painting, its fingers curled…

"Say, Chip – "

"Yeep!" I nearly jumped out of my seat when Dale tapped me on the shoulder. I must have startled Dale too, because he yanked his paw back and almost fell out of his chair. Gadget, Zipper and Monty all turned to stare at us, then immediately started chortling. I was more than a little embarrassed… even Dale was laughing.

"What's so funny? You just surprised me, that's all…"

"You were scared!" Dale was practically doubled over and kicking his feet back and forth in the air while he giggled. 

I felt my ears get all hot as I blushed. "Well, so were you," I snapped.

"I know!" he said, finally managing to get himself somewhat under control. "Isn't this great?"

"Nice to know I haven't lost me touch," said Monty proudly. 

"What was it you wanted, Dale?" I crossed my arms and scowled, still annoyed with myself for getting so wrapped up in a stupid ghost story. 

"Oh yeah," he said, then picked up his marshmallow stick, which he'd set down on the edge one of the stones surrounding the fire pit. "I was gonna ask if you wanted half of my marshmallow." There was a nicely roasted marshmallow on the end of his stick, which he held out to me.

"Oh… uh, sure, thanks." 

His display of generosity left me feeling suddenly awkward. Not five seconds before, I'd been thinking of bonking him on the head. Still blushing, I took the marshmallow and ate the end part, then handed it back to him.

Monty, meanwhile, had started his story up from where he left off. We listened until he finished (for all the buildup and suspense, the payoff simply had something to do with the ghost stealing Monty's cheese… I suppose to him that's a scary thought). 

"Wow, great story, Monty," Dale said. "Okay, Gadget's turn!"

Monty passed the flashlight over to Gadget, who took it and stared down at it in surprise. "Me? Uh, gee, I'm not very good at ghost stories, guys…"

"Aw, it's easy! Just try and think of something really scary. You know, like werewolves or zombies or somethin'." Dale held his paws up and wriggled his fingers for emphasis as he spoke.

"Hmm. Er, um," she said. After a few moments, though, her ears perked up and she leaned forward. "Okay, I've got one! Alright, this is the story of a psychotic mad-mouse named… uh, Bob. One night, he escaped from an insane asylum, but he lost his left paw in the process, because he wasn't very careful about the security system… see, they had one of those outdated copper filament wiring setups in their central alarm panel, and when he tried to cross the polarity on the… well, nevermind about that. Anyway, so he escaped, but he only had one paw. Now, before he was sentenced to the asylum, Bill… I mean, Bob… had been a criminal mastermind, and he had a secret workshop where he'd planned all of his nefarious deeds. With the police hot on his trail, he made his way back to his underground den. 'I'll need a new paw,' he thought…"

Gadget was right… she's not very good at ghost stories. She was trying, I'll give her that, but even Dale had a puzzled look on his face by the time she got to the part where 'Bob' tried to build himself a mechanical paw. 

"So, anyway," she said, now ten minutes into her story, "after his third attempt at integrating a fiberoptic circuitry net into the tungsten chassis of the paw, he managed to short the hydraulics! So, his evil brain decided to undo the torque screws below the second digit…"

"Um, Gadget, love," Monty interrupted. 

"Huh?"

"Are there any actual ghosts or anything in this particular story?"

"I dunno," she shrugged. "I'm kinda making it up as I go."

"Obviously," Dale said with a roll of his eyes. 

"Hmmph. Well, then, let's see you do better," she replied, then handed the flashlight back to Monty so he could pass it to Dale. She tried to sound miffed, but it was obvious she was relieved not to have to continue her impromptu story. 

"I will, thank you," said Dale as he took the flashlight. Waving it around under his chin, he started: "My story begins in the cold, dark expanse of the cosmic void, in the farthest reaches of space that exist beyond rodent knowledge, where terrible things lurk that have squidgy tentacles and big green eyeballs…"

Dale spent the next half hour spinning an elaborate tale of alien invasion that was clearly influenced by those comic books he's always got his nose buried in. It was a pretty silly story, but he told it with a lot of enthusiasm as he waved his arms around and gave funny voices to all of his characters… it wasn't nearly as scary as Monty's story, but I have to admit it was kind of a hoot. 

"…And so the mysterious purple saucer fled the moon-base and disappeared into the starry blackness of space, and was never seen again. The end." Dale clicked off the flashlight and leaned back in his chair, obviously pleased with his own performance. 

"Quite a campfire tale, that," mused Monty. "I just have one question… when you said that the moon looked like a great big wheel of cheese in the sky, what kind of cheese did you mean?"

Dale blinked and tilted his head to one side. "Uh, gee, I'm not sure. Swiss, maybe? It was kind of a… whadayacallit, a semaphore."

Monty pondered this for a few seconds. "Swiss, aye? Hmm… yeah, I could see that, though it should have been muenster. Anyway, good story, Dale."

Dale gave us all a puzzled look and shrugged. Then he held the flashlight out toward Zipper. "Wanna tell a ghost story, Zipper?" 

Zipper just smiled and shook his head. "No thanks," he buzzed. 

"Ol' Zipper here thinks ghost stories are silly, don't ya pally?" Monty gave his friend a mildly disapproving look, but Zipper just nodded. 

"Silly…?" Dale was apparently stunned by this, because he was silent for almost a full minute. I was just thinking that maybe we'd finally get some quiet time in when he shook his head and said, "You're weird, Zipper. So, Chip, I guess that means it's your turn." He held the flashlight up at me.

"Me?" I blinked. 

"Yeah, you." He smiled. "Come on, I bet you know lots of scary stories."

"Just ones that involve you."

He stuck his tongue out at me, but continued to hold up the flashlight like he was passing a relay baton or something. I found myself feeling hesitant to take it, though. "Gee, I dunno, guys, it's getting kinda late…"

"Aw, just one?"

"Yeah, Chipper, how about it? I'd love to know what scares our fearless leader," said Monty with a chuckle. Even Gadget was leaning forward in her chair with an interested look on her face. 

"Well…" I took the flashlight and held it in my paw, keenly aware that everybody was staring expectantly at me. 

Now, there have been times when I've thought I'd have made a decent actor. I'm pretty good at putting on disguises and getting into character if the case demands it (except maybe for those occasions when Dale and I have to go undercover as female chipmunks – I'm not sure what's more frightening, the two of us in dresses and pearls or the fact that Dale's genuinely good at it). But even more than that, there's a part of me that really enjoys acting, just for its own sake.

Well, there was a perfect opportunity staring me right in the face, with that flashlight in my paw and everybody waiting for me to tell them a story… I even had a good one in mind. Somehow, though, all I could think about was how poorly everything else I'd tried today had turned out. I guess I just didn't want to end up disappointed again. 

So I clicked the flashlight off and handed it back to Dale. He took it and stared down at it, then up at me with a puzzled look on his face. 

"Sorry, guys, but I'm with Zipper on this one. Besides, it really is getting late." I stood up and stretched. "I think I'll just do a bit of writing and go to sleep."

"Are you sure? I mean, don't you wanna stay up just a little bit longer? We could sing some camping songs, or make toasted peanut butter crackers…" Dale seemed truly dismayed at my decision to go to bed, and for a few moments I was actually tempted to sit back down and stay. But I'd already made my mind up, and besides I did want to get a start on tonight's journal entry because I knew I'd have a lot to write about. 

"That's okay," I said. "I'm just tired. Don't stay up too late," I added, then turned and walked away from the campfire. 

"Well… goodnight, then," Dale called after me. 

"Yeah, see you in the morning," said Monty.

"G'night, Chip," said Gadget.

"Bzzz," said Zipper (I think).

When I got back to the tent, I unbuttoned the flap and started to step inside. As I did so, I turned and glanced over my shoulder. The others were still sitting around the fire, all of them leaning forward and talking amongst themselves in hushed tones. I sighed, then went inside and closed the flap behind me. 

And so here I am, tucked into my sleeping back with my penlight propped up beside me, scribbling away the day's events in this journal. Apart from a brief break to read a bit more from my Sureluck Jones book, I've been writing for what seems like hours. Dale finally came back a while ago with his fur smelling like campfire smoke (and a telltale smear of marshmallow on his whiskers) and slipped quietly into his own sleeping bag. Once again he's snoring, but I'm so tired that I doubt I'll have any trouble getting to sleep. 

Which is what I'm going to do right now.


	6. Away 6

Part 6 – 'We're not going to the North Pole.'

_Dale's Secret Diary (no peeking!)_

The day after yesterday

Wowie zowie, what a cool day! And I don't mean it was cold, I mean 'cool' like it was good. 

Everything went just like Gadget, Monty, Zipper and me planned it, too. I wish I could just jump right ahead to the end of the day, because just thinking about it makes me so happy! But I guess I should start at breakfast because otherwise you won't know what's going on. 

It was easy to sneak out of the tent this morning without waking Chip up, because he stayed up half the night writing stuff in that little book of his (it's kind of like my diary, I guess, but he calls it a 'journal' and his doesn't have dinosaur stickers on it either). Anyway, Chip was out like a light when the sun came up. 

Once I was outside the tent I put my shirt on, then tip-toed over to the fire pit where Monty, Gadget, and Zipper were already waiting for me. You know something? Being sneaky is fun! I felt just like it was the day before my birthday, all nervousy and excited while we fixed breakfast. 

I made some flapjacks with chocolate chips in them while Monty and Zipper grated some cheese for those cheddar biscuits they always fix – not that we had much cheddar left to cook with because Monty kept getting that weird 'cheese' look in his eyes and holding the grater up over his mouth while he grated. 

Gadget stood next to me at the stove and fried up some of that tofu bacon that everybody thinks I don't know is fake (I haven't told them I know what it's made of because if everyone knew I liked tofu they'd probably put me on a diet and make me eat bean sprouts too). 

I asked Gadget if she was able to finish building her new thingamajiggy out of the leftover junk from yesterday's woodchopper doohickey, and she smiled and said, "I had to stay up an extra hour, but yeah, it's ready!" 

"That's great! Where is it? Did you already get it set up?"

"Too right we did," said Monty while he spooned some dough into the muffin pan. "And let me tell you, six in the morning is no time to be dragging three pounds of hardware up the side of a tree!" He tried to sound all grumbly when he talked, but you could tell he was really enjoying himself. 

Gadget walked up next to him and patted his arm. "Well, nobody else was strong enough to do it, Monty…"

Monty got all red in the ears and started smiling, then went back to fixing his biscuits only now he was flipping the dough in the air with the spoon and catching it in the muffin pan like one of those chefs on tv. I caught Zipper rolling his eyes behind Monty's back, which almost made me laugh but instead I bit my tongue and kept quiet. 

We set the table up with all our breakfast goodies, which looked and smelled so good I really had to work hard to keep myself from just diving in. But we couldn't start without Chip, since he's the reason we were all up so early in the first place.

And speaking of Chip, I was just about to go wake him when I heard him moving around inside our tent. I couldn't see but it was only too easy to imagine him, all bleary-eyed and shuffling like a zombie while he tried to put his jacket on. He's always like that when he gets worried about stuff and stays up too late. I don't know how many times I've told him he works too hard and needs to enjoy himself more, but does he listen to me? (The thing is, underneath that 'I'm-oh-so-serious' front he puts up, Chip really is good at having fun… it's just that sometimes he needs a little help. Especially when he gets all gloomy like yesterday.)

Anyhow, it wasn't long before Chip poked his nose out through the tent flap and started sniffing at the air. I knew he wouldn't be able to resist my pancakes. Sure enough, he came out of the tent with his shoulders slumped like he was still asleep, his fur all scruffy and sticky-outy like mine gets when I sleep on the couch back home. He looked sort of confused, like he was wondering why everybody else was up so early. 

Monty, Gadget, Zipper and I all took our places behind the table and waited for him while he walked up. 

"Uh, g'morning, guys," he said. When he saw all the good stuff we had spread out his eyes got big. "Wow… what's the occasion?"

"The occasion is that we're on vacation and it's time for breakfast," I said as I walked around the table and scooted Chip's chair out for him. "Goda i vostri pancake saporiti del cioccolato," I couldn't resist adding as he sat down.

I put a whole stack of pancakes on his plate, then a bunch of tofu bacon next to that, two of Monty's biscuits, and poured him a cup of orange juice. Now, I know I don't usually serve breakfast to him like that, so it must have seemed kind of surprising, but you should have seen the look on his face! Maybe he thought he was still asleep and dreaming.

"Right-o… tuck in, everybody!" said Monty. Then we all sat down and did just that. Everybody scarfed their pancakes down in nothing flat, then went back for seconds (I actually had thirds, even though last night my belly was all wonky from eating too many marshmallows). Chip always pretends like he's really into healthy food like vegetables and stuff, but you should have seen him attack his pancakes! He's a chocolate fiend at heart, which is why sometimes I tease him about his nose looking like a little chocolate chip.

Anyhow, after we were done eating, and before Chip had a chance to start giving out his 'cleanup assignments', Monty and I cleared the table and took the dirty dishes over to the sink. 

Chip came over and stood beside us while I washed and Monty dried. For a few seconds he just stared at me. Then he reached his paw out and pressed it against my forehead.

"Um… hello?" I asked, not really sure what he was doing.

"Are you feeling okay?" he asked. 

"Of course I am."

"Huh. No fever. How many fingers am I holding up?" He held his paw out at me.

"All four of them. Why?"

"You're cleaning up after yourself," he said, like that was the most amazing thing in the world.

I rolled my eyes. "I know. And you didn't even have to yell or anything." Of course he didn't get that I wasn't being serious. "Anyhow, which would you rather do, put dishes away or re-pack all the food?" 

"I guess I'll put dishes away." He picked up a stack of plates and carried them away, still looking stunned. If it was anybody besides Chip, I would have offered to put the dishes away myself, but I know he's happiest when he's got some kind of chore to do and I wouldn't want to deprive him. 

We'd just finished putting the last of the stuff away when Gadget reappeared. She was all decked out in a new jumpsuit that was green with darker green stripes, and with a backpack slung around her shoulders that had all kinds of weird things sticking halfway out of the pockets. "Golly, Chip, don't you want to get ready?" she asked.

Chip stared at her like she'd just stepped out of a Martian spaceship. "Ready?" he asked. "For what?"

"We were going on a hike, remember?"

"We…" Chip looked so shocked now that I was having a really hard time not laughing. "We were?"

"Too right, pally," said Monty. He walked over to us and slung his own backpack over his shoulder. Zipper buzzed along right behind him… he didn't have a backpack, just a stick that he'd tied a little red handkerchief to the end of. It looked like there was maybe half an apple core in there, but I wasn't sure. "Zipper and me are all set."

"B-but, gee, um," Chip sputtered. Then he scratched at the side of his head. "But I thought you guys didn't want to go hiking."

Gadget blushed a little. "Well, see, I got to thinking about that, and I decided that I wasn't really being fair yesterday. I guess I'm not too good at this whole get-back-to-nature thing, but I still should have been willing to give it more of a chance. We are on vacation, after all."

Chip finally broke into a great big smile. "Really? That's great… uh, I guess I should get ready." He spun on his heels and almost ran back to our tent. 

"Hee hee!" I finally let myself have a little laugh. Then I leaned close to Gadget and whispered, "Thanks again for agreeing to come with us."

"No problem," she said while she twiddled a little dial on the side of her backpack. Then she shot me a dark look and poked a finger at my chest. "But if we get eaten by a giant bug or something, I'm gonna be mad."

"Now, Gadget, love, there's no need to worry. There aren't any bugs big enough to eat a full-grown mouse… not around here, anyway. Now, your giant carnivorous three-toed yellow bullfrog, that's a different story. I remember one time – " Monty didn't get a chance to finish his story because Zipper suddenly swooped in and clapped his arms over his mouth. Good thing he did, too, because Gadget was starting to go all pale around the eartips. 

"Mmrf! Say, Dale," Monty said after he'd pried Zipper off his face. "Shouldn't you be getting ready too?"

He was right! I immediately spun around and dashed off to our tent. When I got inside I found Chip kneeling down on his sleeping bag with his backpack open in front of him. He was looking over the contents with his paw on his chin.

"What's up?" I asked him as I grabbed my own backpack. 

"Just making sure I didn't forget anything. Hmm… water bottle, trail guide, rope, spare hat…"

That wasn't a bad idea, so I opened my pack and went through the stuff inside. "Rubber duck, mints, Rocket Badger decoder ring, ginger snaps, compass…"

He glanced up at me. "You're not really bringing that old compass, are you?"

"Why not?"

"It's huge! Besides, it doesn't even work right. Look," he said, pointing at the spinner thing, "it says the North Pole is located in the southwest. Why don't we just bring my compass instead?"

I don't know what the big deal was… we weren't going to the North Pole! But I decided not to argue about it and just took my compass out. Actually that worked out better because I had more room for cookies. 

"Um, Dale…?"

I looked over at him. He'd buttoned his backpack shut and was sitting cross-legged on his sleeping bag. 

"Hmm?"

He rubbed his paw against the back of his head and glanced down at his toes. "I, ah, just wanted to say 'thanks'. You know, for breakfast, and for coming on this hike with me."

"Oh, well… uh…" I was kind of surprised, because he isn't usually so up-front with me about his feelings (except when he's miffed, of course). For a moment I didn't know what to say. Then I found myself breaking into a big smile that probably looked just like his did when he found out we were going hiking. I was so happy that I nearly blurted out the best part, about the stuff we had planned for later in the day, but fortunately I remembered not to at the last second. "You're welcome," I said instead. "Come on, everybody's waiting."


	7. Away 7

Part 7 – 'Pickles and Aliens.'

Boy, am I glad I brought those cookies. Chip didn't lead us on a hike – he took us on a survival march. We were out in the rough for hours, climbing up hills, down into valleys, over great big rocks and up the sides of trees. Not that it wasn't pretty and stuff… but after a while everybody was exhausted. 

Everybody except our fearless leader, of course, who kept zooming ahead of us with his trail guide out and jabbering away about plants and butterflies. Every thirty seconds it was "Look, guys, it's a tri-petaled orange spruce blossom!" or "Hey, I found a banana slug!" For a chipmunk born and raised in the city, he sure gets excited about flowers and wild bugs. 

But even though my feet were killing me and I was starting to get hungry, I really couldn't complain. After all, if the idea was to make Chip happy then we'd definitely done a good job. After all that moping around yesterday, it was nice to see him enjoying himself for a change. 

Monty and Zipper held up okay, though after a while Zipper took to resting on Monty's shoulder while we climbed up steep embankments and through little canyons in the river bed. I was surprised at how much Gadget seemed to be getting into the spirit of things, since she was the one who'd least wanted to come. At first she spent most of the time practically glued to Monty's shoulder, but after a while she started poking around in the bushes with some of her instruments and 'scanning' stuff with these weird blue goggles she brought. 

I remember at one point she got all excited and held a pawful of dirt out to us. "Six percent feldspar with quartz granules!" she said with a big smile, like that was truly amazing. Then she took out a little beaker and poured the dirt in. It wasn't long before she had a whole bunch of different samples… I was kind of afraid to ask what she wanted them for. Thank goodness she didn't try to keep the banana slug. 

Eventually we came to the end of the trail, so to speak. The river bed suddenly dropped away down the side of the mountain… if there had been water I guess it would have been a waterfall. We all stood near the edge and looked out over the treetops and down into the valley, which got so wide that you had to turn your head to see both sides of it. The forest looked like a great big fuzzy green blanket, except for way high up where the trees couldn't grow and everything was jaggedy and grey like the surface of the moon (or at least what I've always thought the moon should look like, anyway). On the very highest peaks there were little white patches of snow that made me think of peppermint frosting.

It was a perfect spot to stop and rest, so we broke out our lunch and had a picnic. I'd brought a couple of peanut butter sandwiches, one of which was plain and one not. I thought I gave the plain one to Chip, but he took one bite and got a weird look on his face. 

"I think this one is yours," he said with his face all pinched up. He was right… the one I had was completely free of vanilla wafers, bananas, and fudgie sauce. So we swapped sandwiches, then sat down beside each other on a log and started eating.

Gadget, meanwhile, reached into her backpack and pulled out a rubber hose with a spray nozzle on the end. "Who wants cola?" she asked.  Then she held her cup out and filled it with fizzy lime soda. "I've also got cherry, grape, and lemon." 

I got to have a cherry soda with my sandwich, and it was ice cold, too! I'm telling you, science fiction movies have nothing on Gadget. 

"Gadget, love, you are a bona-fide miracle," said Monty as he took a swig of grape soda. She just sort of blushed and smiled and sipped her pop. 

"To the Rangers," Chip said with his cup held up. 

"To the Rangers!" we all cried as we clinked our drinks together. (Why do they call that a 'toast', anyway? There's no bread involved, toasted or otherwise. I think it should be called a 'chug', or a 'gulp' or something. Anyway it was a nice way to cap off our lunch.)

It was getting late in the afternoon by the time we got back to the campsite. Everybody was really tired, even Chip, so we all grabbed our chairs and set them up in the shade so we could cool our heels. It was surprisingly relaxing, just sitting there listening to the breeze rattling the leaves around, and it wasn't long before my eyelids got kind of heavy. I must have dozed off, because the next thing I knew I was getting woken up by Gadget.

"Hnnzh?" I heard myself say (I wonder what I meant by that?) while she shook my shoulder. Suddenly she clapped her paw over my mouth and made a 'shh' noise as she pointed off to my side. When I looked over I saw that Chip was asleep next to me with his paws folded together on his belly and his chin half-buried in his chest fur. He smacked his lips and mumbled something in his sleep that sounded a lot like 'Another case solved, Sureluck…' with a happy smile on his face.

I giggled into Gadget's paw, then moved to stand up out of my chair as quietly as I could. She and I tip-toed over to the other side of our campsite and slipped behind her tent. Monty and Zipper were already there, waiting for us. We all leaned in close and whispered so as not to wake Chip up.

"I think everything's set, right, guys?" asked Gadget.

"Right-o," nodded Monty. "Zipper and me were just doing a double check to make sure we haven't forgotten anything."

Zipper nodded and gave us all a salute. 

"Did you remember the rope?" Gadget asked him. Zipper nodded in reply. "Spoons? Flashlights? How about that spare bottle of coolant I told you about, the one in my tent?" Zipper kept nodding and going 'check… check… check' as she went through her mental checklist. 

"Okay, then," she said, turning to face me. "I guess that just leaves something to cover Chip's eyes with?"

"Gotcha," I said as I reached into my shirt pocket and pulled out a big strip of that green ribbon I brought with me just in case I had to wrap any presents all of a sudden… I never thought of it before, but it's just right for a blindfold. 

"Bonzer. Now all we have to do is wake Ch – "

Monty didn't even have to wait long enough to finish his sentence, because we suddenly heard Chip let out a loud yawn as he woke up. For a moment we all smiled at each other in a sneaky kind of way… I couldn't wait to spring our big surprise on him! 

"Alright, you all remember what to do, right?" I asked. Everybody nodded. "And listen, thanks again for all your help. I really appreciate it."

"Aw, it's nothin'," said Monty as he scratched at the back of his head like he always does when he's embarrassed. "Anyhow, you did all the planning and scheming and everything."

"But you guys did all the hard work…"

"Don't worry about it," said Gadget with a smile. "That's what friends are for. Besides," she added as she reached out and patted me on my shoulder, "I think it's really sweet that you'd go to all this trouble for Chip."

I think I must have started blushing under my fur, because my ears got all hot. "Er, okay," I said, "let's go, then. Rescue Rangers away!" I couldn't quite hide my smile as we walked back around Gadget's tent, casual as pie (is that a real phrase? It ought to be, if it isn't.) 

Chip was sitting up in his chair and looking around all sleepy-eyed. He scratched at his sides and stood up. "Oh, there you guys are…"

"Nice nap, then?" asked Monty.

"Yeah, did you catch the bad guys?" I couldn't help asking. 

He just looked at me funny while Gadget and me chuckled. "It was a nice nap, yes. Er…" He must have noticed the way we were all standing (okay, Zipper was hovering) around him in a half-circle with our paws behind our backs and not-very-well-hidden grins on our faces. "…Is everything alright?"

"Oh, sure, sure…" said Monty as he reached out and clapped a paw on Chip's shoulder. He started to nudge him forward while he talked. "Beautiful early evening, sunset turnin' the sky a lovely shade of cheddar, crickets are singin'… nothin' could be better, right, pally?" 

Chip kind of stumbled along next to Monty, who kept his paw on his shoulder and wouldn't let him veer away. "Yeah, it's… uh… time for dinner, right?" He tried to slink out from under Monty's arm without success. 

"Funny you should mention that," said Gadget as she sidled up to Chip's other side. 

"Mention what?" He kept staring around at all of us with a puzzled look on his face. "Guys, what's going on? Did something happen?"

"Food's gone," buzzed Zipper as he hovered in front of Chip's face. I've got to give credit to Zip… he's got a great poker face. It was all I could do to keep from laughing.

"Gone?! How could the food be gone? _Dale…?_"

We were almost to the edge of the campsite. I trotted up in front of them. "It was the weirdest thing," I said. "A bunch of aliens came down and ate it all while you were asleep. Even the pickles."

Chip was really kicking his heels into the dirt. "Aliens? Pickles? That's ridiculous!"

"It was a full-scale culinary invasion, mate," said Monty. 

We'd started making our way out into the woods by now. "They were so stuffed that they couldn't get their spaceship back into orbit, and they crashed into the trees," I added, pointing up.

"Now, guys – " Chip obviously knew something was up. He doesn't really like surprises (one year we threw him a surprise birthday party, and when we clicked the lights on and threw confetti at him he actually jumped out the window because he thought he was under attack), but it was just too much fun to see him getting all befuddled. 

"Shh!" I hissed as I clapped my paw over his mouth. "They're still up there!"

"Mmmrf?!"

"This is the tree, right here…" whispered Gadget into my ear. We all came to a stop at the base of a tall old oak tree. 

"Okay, hold it, what're you guys up to?" Chip demanded when I pulled my paw away from his muzzle. He didn't notice that Zipper had suddenly zoomed way up into the branches and disappeared. "You know I don't like practical jokes…"

That was a laugh… how many times have I woken up to find a pair of ink spectacles drawn on my face, or had a water balloon filled with whipped cream land on my head as I walked out the front door, or opened the closet only to have a handkerchief ghost come springing out at me? I think what he meant was, he doesn't like practical jokes if he's not the one doing the joking. Even still, he usually doesn't mind too much when I pull a gag or two on him (like that tricky grape sucker I gave him the other week that stained his lips and tongue bright purple for a whole day… sure, he bonked me on the head when he found out, but deep down you could tell he thought it was kind of funny). But tonight, everybody was in on the joke, not just me, and it was obviously making him nervous. 

"No joke, Chipper me lad. The aliens are demanding more pickles or they'll destroy the Earth. We told them we'd send our leader up to negotiate," said Monty with total sincerity. 

Suddenly the end of a rope dropped down and dangled right in front of Chip's nose. He tilted his head back and stared up, but all you could see was the rope disappearing into the branches. "Guys…" he pleaded.

"You're the only thing standing between us and total annihilation," I said as I took out my spool of green ribbon. "The thing is, they're kinda shy, so we have to blindfold you before you can talk to them…"

Chip's eyes started to get that firey look that means he's about to get all huffy, which told me that we'd pushed him about as far as we could. Just as he was opening his mouth to say something, I leaned forward and pressed a finger over his lips.

"Hush," I said softly and smiled. "Just trust me one more time, alright?"

He blinked a few times, then slumped his shoulders and sighed. "Oh, all right, then," he said with all the enthusiasm of a doomed prisoner stepping up to the chopping block. Then he let me blindfold him while Gadget tied the rope securely around his middle. Monty had already started climbing up the side of the tree… he was out of sight by the time Gadget and I were done. 

After a little while there was a pair of tugs on the rope, which meant that Monty and Zipper were ready to start hoisting Chip up. "Hold on to the rope," I reminded him as I tugged back to signal that it was okay to start pulling. 

The rope tightened, and then Chip's feet left the ground. He gripped the rope tightly above his head with a grimace on his face. Gadget and I started climbing up the trunk, keeping pace with him in case he got stuck or something. "You know, I could climb this tree a lot faster than this…" he griped. 

"Not with a blindfold on, you couldn't," I reminded him.

"Say, that's a good point," he said. "So why don't we take the blindfold off…"

"Don't be a spoilsport," I said as I leaned in close to make sure he wasn't trying to peek through the ribbon. "Besides, we're almost halfway there."

Up above us, the branches were all tangled together like giant wooden knots. I could see lots of acorns hanging down from between the leaves (I reminded myself to grab a few for later), and farther up lots of speckled bits of fading blue sky. The higher up we got, the more I could feel the breeze as it ruffled my fur. Pretty soon we were so high that the ground was hidden by twisty branches and leaves… that old oak must have been three times the size of the Ranger Tree. 

Just when I was starting to think we'd never get there, I saw Monty's face, and Zipper buzzing his wings down by his paws as he tried to help pull on the rope. "Rrrgh! There you guys are… you know, this reminds me of the time I went eagle fishing off the coast of Camusfearna… nnnff… what you did was, you tied yourself to the end of a rope, and then you dangled yourself off the edge of a cliff… rrrrff… and when an eagle came by and took the bait, you popped him on the head with a stale baguette…"

Gadget and me climbed up onto the nearest branch and helped pull Chip up. Once he was steady on his feet, we untied the rope. 

"Can I…?" he asked, pointing at the blindfold. 

"Not just yet, mate." Monty and Gadget each took hold of Chip's arms and led him along the branch. 

"Eagle fishing?" I whispered to Zipper.

He laughed softly, rolled his eyes, and twirled his finger around in a circle next to his head. I snickered, then trotted along behind the others.

They went around a twist in the branch that had a bunch of leaves sticking up from it. I pushed my way past the leaves, then held them aside for Zipper. When I turned around again, I saw that Monty and Gadget had stopped leading Chip forward and were standing still. The branch there was really thick and twisty, with lots of room to walk around on, and it was where everything had been set up. I blinked in surprise… they'd really gone all out while Chip and I had been snoozing! 

Smiling, I stepped up alongside Chip and tapped the side of his head. "Okay, you can take that off now."

Chip reached up and yanked the ribbon from his eyes. "All right, where are these – " When he saw what was in front of him, he actually stuttered. "A-aliens?" 

There was a long moment as he looked around, taking in the dozens of fluttering multi-colored streamers, the fold-out table set up with our checkered tablecloth, the little clusters of party balloons and the large paper banner that was strung up above everything. It read: 'OUR HERO!' in big orange letters. Next to that I'd drawn a picture of a snarling tentacled alien eating a pickle, and a chipmunk in a fedora and leather jacket was shooting it with a ray gun. 

"I-er-uh…?" Chip sputtered as he stepped forward, eyes wide. "You… when did…?"

Gadget walked past him and over to a large metal thing that was perched on three spindly metal legs not far from the table. There were lots of black scorch marks all over it from the pieces that had exploded yesterday, and little sprigs of loose wires sticking out from behind a panel that had blinking green lights on it. She picked up a cup made out of a toothpaste cap and twirled it around on the end of her finger.

"Ah…!" Chip blurted when he saw the machine, and nearly took a step backwards into Monty. 

"Hee hee! It's okay, Chip, I've got all the bugs worked out this time," she said. Then she held the cup down next to a little metal nozzle she'd welded into the side and flipped a switch. There was a soft humming noise, then a loud gurgle… I saw Chip flinch out of the corner of my eye. Suddenly a big glob of pale green and brown-swirled ice cream poured into the cup. She stuck a spoon into it, then walked over to Chip. "Double pistachio mint with fudge ripples," she said with a grin. 

Chip stared down at it in total amazement. "My favorite…" Then he looked around at everything again, and at all of us too. "You guys did all of this just for me?" he asked softly. 

"Dale's idea, really," said Monty as he clapped a paw on my shoulder. 

"Yeah, but you guys did all the *_whuf_!*" I didn't get a chance to finish what I was saying because Chip had suddenly thrown his arms around me and was giving me a great big hug. Gadget giggled next to me, and beside her Zipper started tittering into Monty's shoulder. I felt my ears go hot as I blushed at my eartips. Still, I couldn't help but smile as I hugged him back. 

When Chip finally let me go and took a step back, he was beaming and looking happier than he's been in days. I'm not sure, but I think I saw him blink back a couple of tears, too. "You guys are absolutely the best team in the whole world," he said in shaky voice as we all crowded together and wrapped our arms around each other. 

"Well, we've got the best leader, you know," said Monty. 

After a little while Gadget asked, "So, who else is up for ice cream?"


	8. Away 8

Part 8 – 'The pistachio gambit.'

The rest of the evening went by in a nice cozy blur of confetti, balloons and ice cream. Gadget's new and improved machine was even set up to make different flavors… Zipper got apple-cherry swirl, Monty had a double helping of gouda and swiss cheese sundae with parmesean sprinkles (ugh), Gadget had a cup of vanilla with brownie bits, and of course I had my own personal favorite, seven-nut peanut butter crunch with everything and caramel sauce. (When we get home, I'm going to ask Gadget to put an ice cream machine in every room in the Ranger Tree.) 

After we were done eating, we played catch with acorns until the light completely faded. From where we were at way up in the tree, we could see the moon when it finally came out, still just a sliver but thicker than yesterday. Pretty soon there were thousands of stars sparkling away, so bright and clear you could even see the band of the Milky Way like a pale white stripe across the sky. 

For a while everyone sat around on the branch and just talked about stuff – Monty told another one of his tall tales while Gadget went on about how she built her ice cream maker and I explained to Zipper how to say 'apple-cherry swirl' in Vietnamese. As the evening went on, we started talking quieter and quieter, until at last we didn't say much of anything but just relaxed and enjoyed the sounds of the forest at night. 

Chip and I lay on our backs next to each other and stared up at the sky. Below us, we could hear the crickets chirping away, and the breeze whispering in the branches… the sound reminded me of the soft rushing noise the fountain makes in City Park after all the humans have gone to bed.

"It's funny…" Chip murmured beside me.

"Hmm?"

"I kind of wish we didn't have to go home tomorrow."

I turned my head to the side and looked at him. "Yeah… but think of all the cases we might miss out on if we didn't."

"That's true," he agreed, once again not picking up on the fact that I wasn't being entirely serious. "And I ought to get a head start on painting the window shutters too," he added. (Only Chip could lay down under the stars, stare up at the sky and think about housework.) We were quiet for a little while. Then he said, "Even still, I'm glad we were able to get away for a while."

I nodded. "We should do it more often."

"Mm. We'll see." 

I started to daydream a little (can you daydream at night?) "There's always Maui. Or Norway. Or we could go to Japan…"

Chip smiled.

"…China? Nepal? Thailand? Grand Cayman?"

"All right, I get the idea," he said with a chuckle. "But I'd like to let this vacation sink in a little before we start planning the next one, okay?"

"Okay," I agreed. After a pause I said, "I'm really happy that you had a good time."

"Me too," he said as he pulled gently at his chest fur with his fingers. "I, ah…" he started to say, then stopped. For a moment he pursed his lips together, like he was trying to suck a poppy seed out of his front teeth or something. I thought I recognized the look – he gets it sometimes when he's struggling with the right way to say something. I guess that's important to him, to get all the words right. I'm not sure why, though, because I always know what he means anyway. 

I waited for him to finish whatever it was he was going to say, but he was quiet for a while and I started to think he'd forgotten about it. I was just about to clear my throat when he glanced over at me. "Dale, I just wanted to thank you for everything you did today," he said quietly. 

I smiled. "You already thanked me, remember? Back in the tent…"

"That was for the hike. But when I said it I didn't know about all the other stuff you guys were planning, so thank you for that too. It means a lot to me." Then he did something I don't think he's ever done before in all the years I've known him… he reached his arm out, put his paw on the back of mine, and patted it. 

I was starting to blush under my fur as he spoke, and when he put his paw on mine my belly suddenly felt warm like I'd just eaten another toasted marshmallow. It took me a few moments to realize what it was… I was proud of myself. Really proud. "Well," I said as I gave his fingers a little squeeze, "that's what best friends are for."

I don't know how late it was when we came shambling back into the campsite, still full of ice cream and yawning every other second. "G'night, everybody. See you bright and early." Gadget said as she ducked into her tent and closed the flap. 

Monty stretched his arms out and yawned really loud, then held open his tent door so Zipper could fly in. "Right-o," he said, "sleep tight and don't let the great big carnivorous bedbugs bite."

"I heard that!" snapped Gadget from inside her tent. 

Monty chuckled and gave us a wink. "Catch you blokes in the morning. And don't oversleep… I'm fixin' pepper jack biscuits." He disappeared into his tent, but we could still hear him grumbling at Zipper. "Course, they ought to be cheddar, but we're out somehow. I dunno why we didn't bring more cheese, wasn't enough to fit in a ladybird's thimble…"

Chip took off his hat and slipped into the tent with me right behind him. He sat down on his sleeping bag, eyes all drooped, and clicked off his light. 

"Aren't you going to write in your journal-thingy tonight?" I asked. 

"Nah," he said, "I'm way too sleepy. I'll get all the important details down when we get back home."

"If you don't mind, I'd like to stay up a little," I said as I dug out my diary and a pencil. 

"Help yourself. Just don't stay up too late… oh, and don't click your pencil on your teeth."

"Do I do that?" (He nodded, but I still don't think I do that). 

Chip scooted into his sleeping bag and set his jacket down beside his head. He folded his arms behind his head and closed his eyes. I thought he'd drift right off to sleep, but after a minute or two he said, "Say Dale, I was wondering something…"

"Hmm?"

"Where did you get all those balloons and things from?"

I smiled. "From my supply bag."

"Really? I didn't see them in there yesterday."

"Not the big bag, the little one next to the inflatable raft."

"Oh, I didn't see that one. Is that where you're hiding the pistachios?"

"Nope," I said, "those are in – heyyy, I'm not telling you where my pistachios are."

He laughed softly without opening his eyes. "Worth a shot," he said and yawned again. "Good night, Dale." He was asleep in a few minutes. 

So like I said, it was a really cool day, and everything worked out even better than we planned it. What really makes me feel good, though, is that while we were camping we didn't have to worry so much about being Rescue Rangers. Not that I don't love being a Ranger, of course, but now and again it's nice to set everything aside and just be friends. (I'm pretty sure that this time next week Chip and I will be yelling at each other like always, but I don't really care because the way I see it a pat on the paw outweighs a lot of fights.)

Okay, I think I've stayed up way past my bedtime, so I'm going to stop writing now and get some sleep… if I can tune out Chip, anyway. He doesn't believe me when I tell him this, but he snores. 

The End


End file.
